I HATED the Materialists
Ambivalent, detached and two hours of my life I'll never get back. Spoilers ahead
At 35, I've seen my fair share of the dating pool—often from deep within it.
So I get it we're all a little jaded and burnt out when it comes to modern romance. Swipe fatigue is real. I’ve listened to the podcasts, heard the stats, and readily believe dating apps are a wasteland for men, and that we’re all pretty shallow in 2D.
And yet… I'm still a romantic at heart.
Which is probably why I thought I was in for a cute girls’ night with popcorn, witty banter, and that electric, slow-burn chemistry we call a rom-com.
Instead, I watched Materialists.
SPOILERS AHEAD
If you haven’t seen it yet, here’s the setup: Lucy (played by Dakota Johnson) is a cynical matchmaker in New York who approaches love like a business transaction—assigning “value” to potential partners based on compatibility, income, and social capital. At a client’s wedding, she meets Harry (Pedro Pascal), a charming billionaire. And, right on cue, her ex (Chris Evans), a broke aspiring actor, reappears—kicking off the most boring love triangle I’ve ever witnessed.
Materialists clearly aims to be a sharp, intellectual take on capitalism, dating, and modern love. But instead, it delivers three characters so emotionally distant and flat that even Pedro Pascal’s presence couldn’t generate real investment (a feat I didn’t know was possible!!!) 😭 😭 😭 😭 😭. At some point, I hoped they’d break the fourth wall and reveal the emptiness was the point all along. That moment never arrived.
Now, I didn’t have the context that it was directed by Celine Song—the same director behind Past Lives, which I absolutely loved for its quiet, aching nuance.
But here? I didn’t care about any of them. Not Lucy, not her ex, not the tech unicorn who is kind but who has never fallen in love before. The relationships skipped any real development or believable chemistry.
And sorry, the fact that Dakota Johnson orders a beer and a Coke in one scene isn’t personality. It’s just… a drink order. Or maybe the beverage equivalent of “I’m not like other girls.”
The story has no real stakes. There’s no emotional payoff, no reason to root for anyone. Lucy gets proposed to abruptly. Breaks up with someone she barely knows. Ends up with someone she supposedly fought with for years. And we’re meant to believe this is what… growth? Love? Closure? I don’t buy it.
Too Close to the Bone?
Maybe I didn’t “get it” because I’m too in it. I work in this space. I think about modern relationships all the time. Maybe I’m too close.
I get the point. I’ve been around the men in their 40s who say they only date women under 28 because their ‘less difficult’. I’ve heard the women so deep into TikTok that their “I’m the prize” energy hardens into entitlement. I heard that some dating apps have added height filters.
So yes, I understand the critique the film wants to make.
But I’ve also spent the last eight years as the creator of Vanillacooldance, receiving messages from thousands of people—men and women—who are just trying to connect. With real heart and real hurt behind it.
And a a single woman already suffering through the reality of modern dating… why make me suffer through the movie, too?!
In many ways, the film felt like an extension of what dating apps have done to us: more options, less humanity. Flat, low-stakes. The same hollowness we’re trying to escape in real life.
Maybe that was the point, but I felt the film left so much on the table. What actually drives us? What do we value in love? In life?
Okay…that's not entirely fair, because there was one moment that really resonated, when Lucy asked a bride why she wanted to marry her fiancé, and she admitted he made her feel 'valuable.' Frankly, that was the most connecting point I felt in the entire movie. Even though it might feel 'wrong' to admit, I could relate to that feeling of wanting to be valued. It was vulnerable, and that’s what I missed from this whole film.
The movie leans heavily into love vs. money. But it’s not that black and white. There’s a crucial difference between wanting a partner who’s a billionaire and wanting a partner with aligned ambition and financial compatibility. I don’t think that’s wrong. That’s shared values.
For me, financial compatibility isn’t about wanting someone with a fat bank account (though hey, I wouldn’t say no). It’s about:
How do we view money?
How do we spend it, save it, invest it?
Is it a freedom tool? A source of stress? A marker of safety or status?
How do we want our lives to look?
How do we plan for children, travel, retirement, risk?
The Flatness of Modern Love
Dating apps already reduce us to stats and snapshots. I’ve met some lovely people I wouldn’t have otherwise, but I also know how easily the process flattens complexity. In many ways, this movie felt like an extension of that flatness: more options, less humanity.
Was that the point?
To me, Chris Evans’ character wasn’t just struggling financially. He was stagnant. He lacked pride, perspective, and the will to pivot. He didn’t seem to like his life very much. I can get down with a man who has a roommate and a vision. Hell, I lived in a 17-person student flat in a room I couldn’t lock while chasing my own. But there’s no way I’d stay there a decade—and if I did, I wouldn’t expect someone like Dakota’s character, who is deeply ambitious and building something for herself to want to date me.
That’s not a class gap necessarily. That’s a value gap.
Materialists makes that gap obvious…and then completely ignores it.
I’ll give the film credit for one thing: there’s a beautifully uncomfortable scene where Pedro Pascal’s crouches down to show us all how it feels to be a short man. That detail was genius and deeply confrontational.
But what I really wanted was emotional access.
Let me see Lucy’s ambitions, not just her cynicism. Let me see why she loves her ex, because all I saw was that they outgrew one another and financial struggles.
Let Chris Evans' character be more than a vessel for defeat and regret. What’s stopping him? That’s the tension I never got.
Give me something to root for. Or rage against.
Ironically, Past Lives (yes, by the same director!) nailed that bittersweet ache—how two people can love each other deeply and still end up with different futures. Normal People also comes to mind.
And what really pushed me over the edge?
The ending tries to wrap it all in a neat bow. Like “Surprise! It’s about love after all.”
As if that was ever up for debate.
Like we needed two hours of emotional boring to land on the wildly obvious idea that connection matters.
Of course it’s about love.
Of course it’s about the intangibles.
SO…What did you think? Have you seen it yet? Did you feel anything at all? If you loved it tell us why! And also how much does cultural context have to do with it do you think? Living in Amsterdam , I’ve become even more aware of how cultural context shapes relationships. People here seem less obsessed with status and more concerned with values freedom, play, independence, balance. Partners more like a shared path. So perhaps that’s why this didn’t resonate as much to me?
xx
Jess